Son of Thunder (11 page)

No place on Faerun was more mysterious than the High Forest—or at least it seemed that way to the inhabitants of the North. It was a holdover from ages past when such great woods dominated the face of the world. It held elves, treants, dragons, drow, and only the gods knew what else. Why did it still stand after millennia, with encroaching civilizations all around it, all craving lumber? The High Forest had a way of conquering those who sought to do it harm.

In the minds of many, the High Forest threatened to swell in the imagination and become the very embodiment of the unknown. But there it stood, all too real, and churning out mysteries beyond invention. Though most gave it a wide berth—only a few roads skirted close enough even to see the edge of the trees—anyone living in or traveling through the southern end of the forest knew of the Star Mounts. They could be seen from many places in the North, and it was reckoned that they were almost as tall as the highest peaks of the Spine of the World. Shrouded in cloud and lore, they were perhaps the most tempting secret of the infinite mysteries that the High Forest kept so well.

These peaks occupied the thoughts of Llorkh’s mayor.

From the westward balcony attached to his study in the Lord’s Keep, he stared in their direction even though they were out of view. Perhaps, he mused, his destiny would be decided there.

“The Sanctuary,” he muttered to himself.

“What?” asked Ardeth, stepping next to him. “What sanctuary is this?” She was still battered and bruised from her fight in the barbarian camp, but now, with a long rest and some time in Geildarr’s private baths, she was recovering.

“Sanctuary,” he repeated with a smile. “All of our hard work may be realized in that little word. Come.” He led her down the hallway to his study, where the axe still rested on his desk amid stacks of books and papers. He snatched up a note containing the details from one of his divination spells.

“I had almost given up when this came to me in a spell. It’ll be interesting to see what Kiev can extract from the chieftain, but perhaps capturing him was unnecessary.” He held the parchment out to her and she read:

Blood flows from the heart of secrets, where shepherds tend to scales. The axe is the key that pulls back the false and reveals the old Sanctuary in Vision’s long shadow. The brave shall find the forgotten source.

Geildarr couldn’t stop beaming.

“What does it mean?” asked Ardeth.

“It’s simple,” he said, grasping a book and flipping to a faded sketch of the Star Mounts. Each peak was marked with human and elf names. On the far right was a mountain labeled Mount Vision.

“Here,” Geildarr said, pointing his finger. “This Sanctuary lies somewhere in the vicinity of Mount Vision. More importantly, the Star Mounts are the source of the Heartblood River.” He quoted, ” ‘Blood flows from the heart of secrets.’ Whatever it is we’re looking for, it should be near here.” He poked the diagram with his finger.

“But shepherds tending to scales,” asked Ardeth. “What riddle is this?”

“Perhaps it’s more literal than that,” Geildarr said. “Tyrrell said that the Thunderbeasts worship a behemoth, a great lizard of legend. And what attacked you may be the same, or some godly incarnation of the same.”

“I’m lucky to have escaped it,” said Ardeth.

“Truly,” Geildarr said. “It’s a shame Valkin couldn’t have as well.”

“He came back to save me. I owe him my life.”

“You’ve done me no favors by returning without him,” Geildarr said. He kept his tone steady, making no obvious judgments, but Ardeth sensed the anger underneath.

“Would you be happier if I had died instead?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch only slightly, but enough to make Geildarr feel the intensity of her words. “I’m not Zhentarim, after all. Manshoon wouldn’t need to know, or care, if I had died.”

Who is master here, and who is the apprentice? Geildarr thought. But he kept his frustration in check.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “But this has made the situation all the more desperate for me.” He rested his hand on the battle-axe. “You’ll shortly be going on another mission, if you’re well enough. And this time, I wouldn’t be unhappy if your party returns a member light.”

The tribe assembled at nightfall in the camp’s center. All expected that Thluna would give them some impassioned speech, saying that challenges let their tribe excel, or bidding them to trust in the Thunderbeast’s will. But perhaps Thluna knew that speech-making was for another time, for he spoke simply and honestly. Kellin stood on the edge of the assembly, keeping an eye on Keirkrad, who had recently awakened. But throughout the day there had been no signs of Vell, and those barbarians who went combing the valley for him found nothing but a great many large indentations in the ground.

“Our destiny awaits us inside the High Forest,” Thluna said. “Our future will be decided there. Our trail is set by the Thunderbeast itself. But our enemies are many, some of our strongest warriors are lost, and this camp must stay strong. When he designed this quest, Sungar did not foresee this calamity, and I can’t follow the plan he had set. My place had been to remain in camp, but the chief of the Thunderbeasts must lead this journey. In my stead, Hauk Graymane, bane of orcs and Blue Bears, hero of the Red Ridge, shall lead with all his wisdom.” A cheer went up on behalf of Hauk, one of the tribe’s most respected elders.

“Sungar also wanted Hazred along with him on this expedition,” Thluna went on, facing the skald. “He is the Voice, the keeper of our stories and our soul. I know Sungar’s reasons, but I cannot now deprive this tribe of its skald. Hazred is the history of this tribe, which is now more important than ever for safekeeping.

“Some of you wonder what of Everlund and our pact with them? It may well be that our unseen foe no longer has any interest in this camp, but it may equally be that the attack of last night is just a taste of what they mean for us. Still, it is important that we stand on our own, now more than ever. Let only the direst circumstances compel you to retreat to Everlund’s door.”

As shouts of encouragement came out of the assembled tribe, Kellin felt a swell of admiration for Thluna. He was nervous, that was certain, but he faced the tribe with the undeniable authority befitting a chief. Kellin knew Sungar would be proud if he were here. But was Keirkrad? Like some ancient, shriveled turtle he stood, passing silent judgment but never betraying anything on his features.

What followed was a hunting ritual Kellin had read about, and was delighted to witness firsthand. Thluna called the name of each man chosen for the quest. Each was showered with a litany of titles and accomplishments, many of them better suited to gods than men. The stout warrior Hengin was praised as “the vengeful arm of Uthgar,” the scout Draf as “faster than the white rabbit and as unseen as a ghost,” and Keirkrad was hailed as “the Thunderbeast’s greatest blessing upon our tribe.” Not even this drew a rise from the shaman.

With the roll completed, Thluna turned his eyes to Kellin. “Lastly, there is the matter of Kellin Lyme.” His voice was soft, almost apologetic, and Kellin knew what he was going to say. “We must thank her. She delivered to us a lost piece of our heritage, and she helped us in our battle last night, taking the wounds to prove it. And more, she’s done what perhaps no outsider ever has—offered her assistance to us not for any personal gain, nor compelled by pressing circumstance, but only because she thought it the right thing to do.” Thluna’s voice was almost breaking.

“But in conscience I cannot allow her a place with us. We are Thunderbeasts, and it’s all the more important—now that our tribe faces so much crisis—that we strive to keep ourselves free from outside influence. So go with our thanks.”

Kellin nodded. She understood, but she flushed with anger when she saw a smile cross Keirkrad’s lips. Then the hush over the camp was shattered by a loud “No!”

Everyone turned to find the source, and their eyes fell upon Vell at the camp’s edge, striding closer. He appeared just as he had before—a young Uthgardt warrior—but his countenance was different. Passed again from man into beast and back, his presence resonated with a new authority—one that awed and terrified the Thunderbeasts. The assembly of barbarians parted as he strode forward toward Thluna, and fear washed over their faces.

“The Thunderbeast chose us both. You need us both.” The passionate certainty that flowed in his words as he contradicted the chief was palpable. Kellin felt it as a tingle down her spine. Only Keirkrad dared step forward to confront him.

“Vell,” he said, “it is your not your place…”

“Deny Kellin,” Vell said, “and you shall not have me either.”

“Do we need you?” asked Keirkrad, limping up to Vell.

“The Thunderbeast never decreed for you to come along into the High Forest.”

“Nor did the beast ask for you,” Vell shot back. Gasps were heard from the Uthgardt at this verbal attack on the shaman.

“Fellow warriors were crushed under your feet last night,” said Keirkrad. “Tell me, Vell, are we all to fall victim to the powers you cannot control?”

“I need you all,” Thluna spat out quickly. “Vell, Keirkrad, and Kellin. All three and no less. This is my last word, and I will hear nothing more of it.” Keirkrad made fists of his trembling hands and frowned at Vell as he walked away.

Soon enough, the center of camp was deserted but for Vell and Kellin. She approached the warrior, fighting to steady her own shaking hands as she did so. Why was she feeling this way? she wondered. She sensed that all of the uncertainty and vulnerability she had seen in Vell before was now gone, and she just didn’t know who she was talking to.

“Vell,” she said, scanning his brown eyes, which were seemingly harder and deeper than before. “I don’t know how I can thank you.”

“Why thank me?” he demanded. “Thanks to me, you may die, for a cause you don’t believe in and a people who don’t want your help. I’ve helped make that happen.” His voice was thick with bitterness.

“I’ve made my own choices,” Kellin said. “Vell, what happened? Do you remember anything… anything from your transformation?”

“Not much. Like a dream mostly forgotten, or a night lost to mead.” Vell shook his head. “I don’t think I’d like to remember more. I wasn’t Vell any longer. I was something else, to whom my life as a man was nothing but a shadow of a memory. I don’t even know how I found my way back home.”

Kellin reached out and clutched at his hand. He instinctively pulled away, but then let her take it.

“You did the right thing. You fought for your tribe,” Kellin said.

“And so shall I again,” said Vell. “This is the Thunderbeast’s price. It is ransoming my own soul. That’s how it is assured of my service.”

“Is that really how you see it?” asked Kellin. She saw a flicker of uncertainty in Vell, and this pleased her. He did not wear his dark cynicism well.

Vell’s muscles tensed. “Keirkrad is right. I killed some of my own people last night—Thunderbeasts are dead by my actions.”

“The blame is with the wizard who knocked them unconscious. Would not those warriors have laid down their lives to protect Sungar? That’s exactly what they did.

“I can’t pretend to know what you’re feeling,” she continued, “but I too have felt things inside me that were beyond my control. When I was a child, I felt magic flowing through me in search of an exit. To stay sane and become who I am, I needed to understand it, tame it, and make it part of myself.”

“Then you’re what the outside tongue calls a sorcerer?” Vell asked. “Such children have been born into our tribe in times past. They were left to die in the Lurkwood.” Kellin twitched. “I don’t think that was right,” Vell hastily added.

“But that would have happened if I had been born into your tribe,” Kellin asserted.

“Yes. You would have been deemed impure and too dangerous to live.”

“Is that much different from the way things are now?”

Vell looked around the camp, where suspicious eyes ducked and hid from his accusatory gaze.

“They rejected you,” he said. “You came from a world away to help, and they spurned you. Perhaps they don’t deserve salvation.”

“Vell!” protested Kellin. “These are your people. I wouldn’t have come here if I thought that about them.”

“Why did you come?” asked Vell. “I still cannot fathom it.”

“What reason would suffice?” Kellin said, asking herself as much as Vell.

“Might it have to do with your father?” Vell asked.

“Most assuredly,” Kellin replied. “But not in a way you might think. I never knew him as well as I wanted to, and now I’ve followed his ways and gone several steps beyond the path he trod. He revered your tribe above all the others. I remember so vividly the stories he told me of his time in Grunwald.”

“And you won’t have any such stories to tell,” Vell said sadly.

“Maybe not.” Her smile awakened all the dark beauty of her face. “But somehow I’m not upset to be here. In the end, I wonder if I will gain more understanding than he ever dreamed of.”

Vell stood silently, then he finally allowed himself a smile. “I look forward to counting you as my companion, Kellin Lyme.”

His formality brought a broad, open laugh from Kellin, and she repeated it.

“And I, you, Vell the Brown.” As they parted in the fading light, each of them felt a bit stronger and a bit more certain about the task to follow.

Sungar awoke in the dark, with the stench of human waste assaulting his nostrils. He hurt worse than from any beating he had ever taken. His flesh was ripped and torn, his ribs ached, and his mouth was dry and filled with the acrid taste of blood. The only light he could see was the flicker of a torch somewhere down the hall, its light dancing on the thick steel bars of his cage. His cell looked out on the featureless walls of a passageway.

Yet somehow, he found the strength to rage. He rose to his feet, let out a hoarse war cry, and assailed the walls and bars with his fists and feet. If anything had been near enough to smash, he would have demolished it as he vented his rage, but there was nothing, and so he slammed his weight against the bars again and again, challenging his unseen captors to come and confront him.